


Roadside Assistance

by ArcticLucie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Daryl has a cop kink, M/M, Merle Dixon Being an Asshole, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Hand Jobs, Shotgunning, Smoking, Smut, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: Rick's cruiser breaks down on the side of the road. Can you guess what happens next?!(suǝddɐɥ ʇnɯs 'ʇnɯs s,ʇI)





	Roadside Assistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MermaidSheenaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidSheenaz/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [Roadside Assistance (trad fr)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261838) by [LeTraducteur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeTraducteur/pseuds/LeTraducteur)

> A late birthday present for my lovely MermaidSheenaz! <3

When he saw smoke billowing up from the hood of his cruiser, Rick might’ve turned a little panicky. The old car needed a good servicing, but departmental budget cuts had forced him to wait in line until they could get to him. At least he had a car. When Glenn joined the force last year, they could only afford to give him a second hand scooter. Although that sounded heavenly right about now.

The check engine light flickered as he pulled off to the side of the road. He cut the engine and popped the hood. While he had no real experience with cars, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have a look. He reached for his hat from the passenger seat and got out, adjusting it as the gravel crunched under his boots.

He lifted the hood and held it up with one hand as he waved the noxious fumes away from his face with the other. He peered into the metal guts, brow furrowing in concentration, but he really had no idea what the problem was, let alone how to fix it.

Sighing, he got back in the car to use his radio. Maggie at dispatch told him she’d send a tow truck his way but informed him that it might take awhile since they had an accident on the other side of town that needed clearing.

“Come on, Maggie. I’m supposed ta be meetin’ Shane and T to serve that warrant.”

_ “Well, I don’t know what to tell ya, Rick. Maybe stick out your thumb?” _

_ “Or you could always hike up yer skirt,” _ Shane snickered, his voice crackling through the speaker on the dash.

He hadn’t seen one car pass by since he pulled over, so he’d keep his hopes low. “And steal all your clients, Shane? Nah, I ain’t that desperate.”

_ “That better not be my officers talkin’ about solicitations over my radio,” _ Chief Morgan interrupted.

Rick tried to think of a comeback as he laughed, but before he could, a knock on his window almost sent him shooting through the roof. “Jesus Christ!” he yelled, hand reaching for his gun as he pushed the door open. “Hands where I can see ‘em,” he instructed as he scrambled out.

The man rolled his eyes but complied as Rick took him in. He didn’t look like a threat despite his hardened appearance. His dirty jeans had a hole in each knee, a faded black button up with cutoff sleeves exposed toned biceps, and a mop of ratty hair looked like he’d styled it in the middle of a hurricane.

Rick glanced around and noticed a motorcycle parked in front of his cruiser, which totally explained the hair. He must not have heard it over Shane’s big mouth. “Sorry,” Rick said, putting his gun away. “Ya startled me is all.”

The man huffed around the cigarette between his lips, the bob of it captivating Rick a little more than it should have. But in his defense, his car wasn’t the only thing in need of a good servicing.

“Thought you might need some help,” the man said, motioning toward the hood with his head, a wisp of hair falling to hide one of his stormy blue eyes.

“Yeah, it just started smokin’.”

The man hummed as he nodded.

“You know a lot about cars?”

“A little.”

“Well… I’d appreciate it if you had a look then,” Rick said, leading them around to the front of the car.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Hot Biker leaned his hands against the frame, bending over to look under the hood. The red handkerchief hanging from his back pocket drew Rick’s attention, and his cock gave a twitch of interest. He knew better than to act on something like that around here. For all he knew, the guy would beat his ass just for looking.

And not in the sexy “Spank me harder!” kind of way.

Hot Biker straightened and dropped his cigarette to the ground as he eyed him. He blew out the smoke and stomped on the butt before he started undoing his belt.

Shit, had he said that out loud?

“Think ya just lost a belt.”

Rick swallowed and tried to remember how to use words. “A-a belt?”

“This should get ya back into town,” the man said, thrusting the belt into the deepest recesses of the cruiser, bountiful biceps flexing and making Rick’s mouth water. A couple of wiggles and a well-placed grunt had tendrils of heat weaving a sticky web of lust up his spine.

“Thanks,” Rick said, throat a dry tangle of tumbleweeds he had trouble swallowing down. He offered out his hand and watched Hot Biker wipe his on his dirty jeans before shaking it.

The man gave a grunt in reply, and before Rick could spit out anything else, he watched the stranger throw his leg over his bike—revving the engine to life—and peel out onto the road. A cloud of dust seemed to hide his retreat as Rick stared after him. Shit, he hadn’t even had time to get a name.

_ “Rick, if ya ain’t here in ten minutes, we’re goin’ to lunch,” _ Shane heckled.

He slipped into his cruiser with a sigh. “Might as well. We can do the warrant after,” Rick replied as he tossed his hat to the side. He let out a breath and turned the ignition, his lips curving into a thankful smile when it started. “C’on, Bessy. Ya jus’ gotta get us back into town.”

A mile down the road, and once again Rick had to pull his cruiser onto the shoulder. But not because of a missing belt. When he rounded a bend, he noticed a familiar bike stopped under an outcrop of trees like a heavenly mirage in the desert. And fuck, was he dying of thirst.

His guardian angel didn’t so much as spare him a glance as he got out of the car, the picture of serenity as he leaned against his bike, ankles crossed and head thrown back, a billowy parade of smoke rings floating ever higher into the atmosphere. Rick couldn’t tear his eyes away from his neck, elongate and bear, a dangerous invitation his body ached to take.

“’S my favorite belt,” Hot Biker said with a nod toward the cruiser. “Figured I should see if it held up.”

Rick cleared the thickness from his throat, tearing his eyes away from the sinful expanse of his neck to meet heavy-lidded eyes. “Didn’t catch yer name.”

“Didn’t give it,” he replied, pushing away from his bike and taking a pull from his cigarette. The smoke swirled between them as he approached, his eyes making a show of raking over Rick’s body leaving him to second guess if he still had clothes on because he suddenly felt utterly exposed.

And yeah, okay, his instincts were right.

“Mind if I have a drag?”

“I don’t share.”

Rick didn’t protest, standing his ground when heavy boots crossed the threshold into his personal space. He swayed into it, into the man’s gravity, wild eyes like a beacon of hope for his weary soul. Maybe he should’ve been afraid, put on edge by a predatory gaze, but his fears bled into a strange sense of anticipation, his heart thumping a manic beat against his ribs. 

He found himself in a quickdraw at high noon except he didn’t know the rules.

“Daryl.”

“Rick.”

The tip of Daryl’s tongue drew his attention, the flash of soft pink the punctuation mark to an unspoken question. Rick licked his bottom lip, hoping he drew the right weapon, and a quiver of Daryl’s lips said yes. He didn’t flinch when Daryl grabbed him by the collar, but he did shiver when a thumb traced the line of his jugular. He hadn’t anticipated such a delicate caress.

Daryl took a long drag then reeled him in, his mouth sealing around Rick’s as he exhaled. Rick’s eyes flitted shut, and he let the bitter smoke fill his lungs, a heady hit of nicotine chasing the adrenaline in his veins. His muscles begged to move, to fight, to flee, to  _ conquer _ , but he ignored the impulse and waited, still unsure of the steps to this dance.

But then Daryl licked the rim of his mouth, far more tentative than he expected from rough hands, and all bets were off. He locked them in place with an iron grip on Daryl’s hips and kissed the living shit out of him. Or tried to anyway, his sensors scrambled by the hand carding through his hair and a smoky tang smothering higher brain function.

His ass hit the hood of his cruiser, and he felt encapsulated by flames, a deadly ring of fire pinning him in, from the overheated engine, from the sun kissed skin of broad shoulders. From his blistering insides screaming for relief.

“What about cars?” Rick asked, if for nothing else then to give him a breather.

An incredulous laugh echoed in his ear. “Have you seen any in the last hour?”

Rick answered with a shrug and dove back in. He moaned as Daryl arched into him, straddling his thigh and rolling his hips. Yeah, okay, a whole damn parade could’ve strolled by and he doubted he could stop this runaway train. Hair tickled his face when Daryl leaned down for a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and solid heat.

Hands pawed at his belt, and he probably should’ve stopped it right there, acutely aware he had a gun in his holster that could very easily be used against him. But that thought evaporated when teeth sunk into the curve of his neck and a calloused hand curled around his cock.

“Fuck,” Rick rasped, fingers faltering on the button of Daryl’s jeans.

Daryl huffed out a laugh. “Was thinkin’ handjobs, but ‘m flexible.”

“As much as I like the idea of spreadin’ you out on the hood a’ my cruiser and fuckin’ you senseless, I am kinda on duty right now.”

“Who said you’d be doin’ the fuckin’?” Daryl challenged, his eyes both narrowing and darkening with lust.

He had no answer to that, his body quaking when Daryl slid his hand down his shaft. He felt like putty, and Daryl could’ve molded him into anything he wanted in that moment.

Daryl slowed to a teasing pace to give him time to catch up, but it only lasted long enough for him to get a handful of cock. And with a quirk of his brow, Daryl seemed to have read his every last thought, because yeah, he would not mind at all getting fucked by  _ that _ .

Rick’s radio crackled to life. _ “Hey, Rick, the wrecker’s on the way.” _

He threw his head back and groaned. “For fuck’s sa—” the last word dying on his tongue as Daryl licked a path up his neck. He scrambled for his radio and replied, “Copy that,” before tossing it on the hood behind him. “Not exactly the place to draw this out,” he said with a husky howl of laughter.

Daryl hummed, the vibration radiating outward from where he mouthed along Rick’s jawline. “Fuckin’ shame,” he said with a leisurely pull to the tip of Rick’s cock, thumb grazing along the slit before building speed.

And yeah, okay, race to the finish.

It all went by too fast, a fevered rush of friction and frenzy; he didn’t have time to commit it all to memory. Though he knew he’d have a hard time forgetting the meaty hand working miracles on his dick. He gave as good as he got, hoping in part to thank Daryl for his generosity, and even if it sucked due to his inability to think straight, he figured a sloppy handjob was better than no handjob at all.

The sputtered jumble of syllables Daryl let out when he came had a prophetic smile tugging at the corners of Rick’s mouth, but Daryl swallowed it down and worked him to completion, the knot of fire in his belly tightening until Daryl showed him mercy and cut the strings sending it spiraling out of control. His body went boneless as the tension in his muscles dissolved, and he slumped forward, head coming to rest against a solid shoulder.

They sagged against one another, spent and saited, until Daryl had enough strength to pull away, making a show of raising his hand to his lips and devouring every last drop of Rick’s slick from his fingers. A whimper rumbled deep in Rick’s throat when Daryl gripped his wrist and began to lap at the cum cooling on his palm. And Jesus Christ, Rick would’ve cut off a limb for a chance to fuck that pretty little mouth.

And yep, that he actually said out loud. “Lookin’ forward to it,” Daryl said, pulling out his phone while Rick straightened out his belt.

They exchanged numbers, and after one last kiss, Daryl road off into the metaphorical sunset leaving Rick behind to wait for the tow truck.

*

Rick made sure to keep Shane on his right to conceal the fading teeth marks as they made their way up to the house to serve the warrant. He hadn’t paid much attention when Shane gave him the rundown—his brain still foggy from his roadside  _ assistance _ —but he nearly choked on his tongue when the door swung open and stormy blue eyes landed right on him.

“Daryl Dixon, we have a warrant for your arrest,” Shane bellowed, spitting out commands Rick couldn’t process, because well, this was awkward.

Shane read Daryl his miranda rights while Rick slapped the cuffs on his wrists, his brain too consumed with all the salacious things they could do with them to concentrate on much other than the half erection he used Daryl’s thigh to conceal.

“Yer arrestin’ me for parkin’ tickets? What the actual fuck? They ain’t even mine,” Daryl spat, fighting just enough to have Rick chasing the delicious friction. “Merle, you son-of-a-bitch! You bes’ be gone when I get back or I’mma beat yer ass into the ground!”

Daryl struggled a bit as Rick walked him to the cruiser, but he suspected it was mostly show to get him all hot under the collar.

It worked.

“Sorry ‘bout this,” Rick whispered in his ear as he pressed him against the car, holding him in place with his hips so he could open the door. A sharp intake of breath told him it had the effect he had hoped, and the little shimmy of Daryl’s ass into his groin didn’t hurt either.

“Yeah, yer ass is gonna be sorry.” The venom in Daryl’s voice had turned into an intoxicating taunt. “Next time y’all arrest me it’s gonna be for murderin’ my asshole brother.”

“We’ll straighten it out,” Rick said, careful of Daryl’s head as he helped him in the cruiser. “Though we might end up sharin’ a cell ‘cause I’m thinkin’ of murderin’ him too.”

“Bes’ not… rather have ya strip search me,  _ Officer _ .”

Rick’s throat went dry at the thought of his fingers exploring that ass before fucking him into oblivion. “That can be arranged.”

The ride to the station took entirely too long, the heat from Daryl’s gaze burning holes through him every time he glimpsed in the mirror, but as soon as Daryl made bail, Rick slid the cuffs back on and dragged him into the custody of his bed. 

And he never let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Merle racked up parking tickets in Daryl's truck then threw away his mail cause he's an asshole.


End file.
